


His Cycle of Death and Rebirth

by Hiiro



Category: Motorcity
Genre: M/M, older!burners au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 02:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiiro/pseuds/Hiiro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike struggles to find his place after many years out in The Wastes. An older!burners AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Cycle of Death and Rebirth

It was late, about 3am, when they pulled up into Antonio’s. A dark haze had descended upon Motorcity, it’s glow steadily beginning to dim. Neon lights and blinding sparks, the flickering reflection of metal. It was like the city’s life had been snuffed out. But maybe that was a good thing, that now in the fog that hadn’t cleared for days no one had to look upon the destruction; entire blocks that had been wiped off the map, buildings crumbling to nothing more than a house for rodents and scum. That wasn’t something the motorcitizens needed to see.

Mike could barely even look at it.

Instead he focused on the broad, worn figure of his best friend. Chuck, who wore his hair back and out of his face, and had bags under his eyes so deep they looked like bruises. A man who stretched out across from him, cigarette hanging idly from his long fingers, shoulders pulling tight the fabric of his studded jean jacket, ankle resting over his knee. A picture of confidence- commanding, authoritative.... Chuck, his Chuck, was more beautiful than ever. He was a hero, an icon; people looked up to him now. Everything a real man should be.

The soft light from the diner shown behind him like a beacon, a halo surrounding an angel sent to  abolish Mike of his sins. He could tell that Chuck was capable of things like that now, noticed how the rest of the burners seemed to straighten whenever Chuck entered a room, how random people on the street would nod respectfully as he drove past. Maybe those actions were subconscious, the natural reaction to someone who was actually there when he was needed.

But where did that leave Mike?

Nowhere, he didn't fit. Not anymore.

He was nothing.

That was it. The absence of himself in his own legacy, in the people he loved. The burners were his family, Chuck was his best friend. They meant everything to each other, once. Now it seemed all Chuck saw in Mike was a betrayer, a coward. He knew, until they're new leader came around, no one would see him as anything different. No matter how much they smiled and opened their arms, it was always up to one man. He'd waited months, but he could wait a lifetime. Was what he did... was it really so hard to forgive?

_Kane was right about you._

“You okay, Mikey?” That was Chuck smiling at him, that was his angel, calling him back.

Mike blinked and rubbed at his jaw, over the bristles of hair he'd let grow and grow. He was surprised to see that they were both still in their usual booth, surrounded by the smell of grease and sound of low crooning jazz. He couldn't remember how long they'd been there, something he was used to by now, zoning out and just, losing track of time.

“Yeah, man, I'm cool,” he waved it off, stretching high above his head, letting the joints pop.

Outside Chuck hands him Mutt's key, Mike visibly recoils.

“Mike,” Chuck urges, “it's time.”

“No, I don't- I-I _can't_.”

“Get in the damn car, Mikey!” Nonchalant as though it was nothing, as though driving in Mutt, everything that stood for, meant nothing. Chuck had already jumped through the passenger side window, leaning over and patting the driver's seat, leaving Mike no choice.

His hands shake, fumbling the key into the ignition like a freaking novice. His hands shook back then too, sixteen and ecstatic to be in inside something he's only seen from afar as it went up in smoke. When he had a purpose. It's fear that drives him now in the small compact space, fingers frozen on the gear shift, familiar yet foreign.

He can feel Chuck's eyes on him, patient, respectful. Until a few long moments have passed with nothing and Chucks hand descends upon his own, gripping lightly. Mike breathes deeply as the memories come flooding back, reckless exhilaration at dangerous speeds, joy settling into the marrow of his bones, his best friend at his side, sobbing and screaming and only adding to the fuel of his lust for the road.

“You took good care of her,” he manages a grin, thankful down to his soul for the man next to him, Mutt humming under him, the people back waiting for him.

Chuck makes an amused sound, “hardly. I mean, it get's harder to rebuild her each time but... yeah, we did our best.”

Mike isn't sure what exactly Chuck is saying but what he hears is an old disdain that seems to pop up everywhere between them. So they were able to bring Mutt back every time, but not him? Even an aged vehicle was more reliable than a kid like him who hadn't had the courage to come home all those years? A deep, seeding frustration coils in Mike's gut, the likes of which he hadn't seen since he was young and foolish and rising to Kane's taunt up above on Deluxe.

Chuck squeezes his hand knowingly, must see the determination in his eyes because he backs off, opens a green hollow screen and tells him-

“Let's use the back road.”

Because, Mike remembers now, they're supposed to be past that old swan song.

Past the blame and the anger and the lies to themselves. A slow process, but far enough in that Mike shouldn't have been thinking any of the things he'd been dwelling on all night. It was enough to spur him forward, switch gears, and peel out of the parking lot with a screech of rubber and plume of smoke.

Together they disappeared into the night.

* * *

 

Things seemed.... easier then. Mike drove for a long time, a compatible silence settling in the cab, taking in the destruction and debris that lined the roads. Small, rickety shelters make up of scraps, the blurred orange glow of lights in the distance. It would be dawn soon; him and Chuck had been up all night, first with exhaustion, then worry, then hunger and finally the acceptance that they didn't want this night to end. This night full of calm and kind words, where their friendship was finally starting to make sense again.

They'd pulled over on the side of a cliff not far from the road, deciding a smoke break was definitely needed. Mike and Chuck braced their backs against Mutt, long, jean clad legs stretched out in front of them, a couple of butts already piling up between them.

“Y'know,” Chuck starts, blowing smoke out of his mouth, patting Mutt fondly. “This girl here, she was the one thing I left myself have. After you left? I was a fucking wreck dude. But, sitting in Mutt, that's where I was able to put myself back together day after day. It was safe in there.”

Mike watches Chuck closely, swallowing the guilt he feels rising in his chest. He watches the way Chuck brings the stogie back to his lips between his index finger and thumb, breathing in deeply. How he pushes the fly-away strands of his hair up out of his face, only to have them fall again. How that hand continues back, down to his neck and squeezes.

“I mean, sure, back then some important pieces were missing. We didn't rebuild her for a long time, too scared to I think, but... it was as close to you as I could get. Until I realized she was a much mine as she was yours, and I was doing a shit job of looking after her.” Chuck laughed, shaking his head. “I was pretty stupid, back then.”

“I think we both were,” Mike chimes in, grinning despite himself. He takes the last drag of his cigarette and stubs it out in the dirt under him.

“Nah, you're still pretty stupid.”

“Not like you though?”

“Hell no, I'm a fuckin' intellectual gold mine.”

Mike snorts,“Fair enough,” and reaches into the inner pocket of his jean jacket, “I am still holding on to this, after all these years.”

The smile falls from Chuck's face when he realizes what Mike is pulling out- the chipped, beat up, barely bobbling brown dog bobble head.

Mike shrugs self consciously, “Pretty dumb, yeah?”

But Chuck isn't listening, he snatches the dog out of Mike's hand and brings it to his face, staring intensely, taking in all the wear and tear and suddenly Mike's embarrassed for not taking better care of the thing.

“You kept this?” Chuck's voice is disbelieving.

“I, uh, yes?”

And then Chuck is looking at _him_. The same deep stare, like he's looking right through Mike into his very soul. Goosebumps are rising on the back of his neck, his tongue feels heavy, but he can't look away. He's caught in those eyes, afraid to move, afraid to do anything when Chuck moves, grabs the back of Mike's neck to pull him forward and kiss him.

It's only a quick touch of lips but for those few seconds Mike panics, what was happening? When he got back to the Burners a part of him had _hoped-_ but it had become very clear very quickly that was not going to happen. Would forever be one of those old regrets, not pursuing whatever it was that had shifted between them that one hot summer ages and ages ago.

“But- I thought-” He's stuttering when Chuck pulls back, still mere inches away, the press of his fingers scalding on Mikes skin.

“I know.” Chuck cuts him off, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. “I know, but Mike, Mikey, _this_ ,” he presses the dog back into Mike's hand. Mike doesn't know what's so important about that though, because they're kissing again. An open, desperate, shockingly intimate kiss that has Mike's throat seizing, eyes prickling, stomach pooling with heat. He has just enough time to worry how bad at it he must be, to find room for jealously at whoever taught Chuck to be so _good_ before he's being pulled forward by the collar of his jacket, and their tongues are actually touching oh God.

Mike is amazed at how well they fit together, as easy as putting together car parts. Maybe this was just how the two of them were always supposed to come together; back when they were teenagers, neither of them knew what to do about things like feelings, more content to be together fighting off bots and playing video games. Alone, Mike had come into his own okay, even though this overwhelming feeling of self loathing and regret would hit him out of nowhere after every encounter and he never knew _why._ This though, sitting in the middle of nowhere with Chuck, awkwardly shuffling closer and getting dirt in his eyes? It was absolutely...

_Perfect._ It made so much sense now. All this time everything he needed was right in front of him and he never realized it until everything he needed was cupping his rough face and kissing him senseless. The force of his revelation hits Mike so hard he gasps, pulling back with tears in his eyes, seeing Chuck for the first time.

“God, Chuck, I'm... I'm so sorry. So, _so_ sorry.” And he just keeps repeating it, over and over with a tear induced grimace, until Chuck brings their foreheads together gently, wiping tears from Mike's cheeks.

“Mikey,” he says softly, soft enough it seems the very city is quieting, making sure not to miss a word. “I forgave you a long time ago.”

Over his shoulder, the sun peaks on the horizon.

 


End file.
